Harry Potter 1. Happy Christmas, Granger

Snow had fallen on Hogwarts, creating a white blanket of wonder. Ice crystals hung from the castle turrets, glistening like glittered cones. Birds chirped on occasion, as if creating their own form of Christmas music. For Hermione Granger, it was bliss. Freedom—from everything. Silence.

Hermione had awoken that Christmas day to find the castle blanketed, slumbering in peace. Arising from her bed, she threw off her red and gold covers and immediately bundled up. Opportunities of peace and comfort rarely came in these days of war. Grabbing a quick bite from the Great Hall, she wandered outside. _Ahhh_, she thought, _finally, a moment for me._

Suddenly, a snowball soared through the air. With a graceful arc, the snow reacted to gravity and moved down, landing itself in Hermione's bushy hair.

"Ow!" Hermione exclaimed out of shock. Her hands automatically went to her hair, attempting to brush the snow out of it. "Who did that?" Turning around slowly, her heart plummeted. So much for peace. A young man leaned against a tree insolently, smirking as he brushed the snow off his hands.

"What do you want, Malfoy? If you can't see, Im busy."

"Now, now, Granger. Where are your manners? Oh, yes, I forgot, little mudbloods like you haven't really been taught proper decorum. Well, I suppose I could expect as much," were the words that came from the beautiful aristocrat's mouth. The mouth arced gracefully, forming a perfected smirk – from years of use and practice, no doubt.

Hermione watched his red mouth, fascinated. Such a beautiful mouth, ruined by ugly words. "Well, I hate to inform you, Malfoy," She spat out his name with such venom the boy almost blinked – almost, Malfoys were always poised – "But you were the one to start this tête-à-tête. So unless you have a reason for this conversation, I suggest you sod off."

The boy smiled, a real smile. Hermione frowned in confusion. She had never seen the boy smile before, really smile. Yes, smirks, and yes, snarls, but never a real smile. The boy saw the direction her eyes were looking at, and his gray eyes twinkled, turning an ice-silver, matching the icicles on the castle perfectly. "Well, Granger, to be honest, I have a little… information, I suppose, that may help out Pothead. But if you really feel that my presence is too painful for you to bear, I suppose I could just leave and let the Death Eaters have their fun with him…" Turning around gracefully, Hermione watched the boy's blond hair move towards the castle doors.

"Wait!" Hermione shouted, running towards him. Grabbing his arm, she turned him around and looked directly into his eyes. "What is it that you have to tell me?"

Draco's eyes looked intently at Hermione- so much that she almost felt the heat between them. He looked warily around them, muttering "_silencontineo_." A transparent bubble surrounded the two of them; now no one could hear them speaking. Grabbing her arm, Draco began speaking rapidly, intently. "The Dark Lord has figured out that Potter's been going after the Horcruxes. He's set up an ambush for the next horcrux Potter's after, tonight. Most of the Death Eaters will be there. You have to tell him, Hermione, as soon as possible, or else…The Boy Who Lived won't be alive for much longer. And that would be too dreadfully ironic."

Hermione's lips formed a perfect "O". Now, it was the boy's turn to look at her lips in fascination. So beautiful, so much like the girl in front of him. Suddenly, his brain (treacherous glob of jello as it was) snapped back into attention, focusing on the girl's reply.

"Why are you telling me this?" was the reply from the girl's mouth.

Draco forced himself not to roll his eyes. Of course the Gryffindor Princess wasn't about to take the advice of the boy who helped kill Dumbledore. _One little mistake…_

"Hermione," the boy paused, surprised at how easily her name came out of his mouth, "I've killed before. There's no glory in it, no purpose. Murderers- that's all the Death Eaters are. This Christmas," he paused again, considering his words, "I was left here to lure you into a trap. One third of the trio, left all alone at Hogwarts because her parents are dead and her friends are off fighting! But Im sick of this war. There's no point. All of Voldemort's followers have been tricked into thinking that blood differs." Draco glanced at Hermione's finger, where she had a slight cut. "That doesn't look muddy to me. And I can't fight for a cause I find stupid."

" Thank you," Hermione breathed, reeling from Draco's revelation. She hesitated, unsure of whether to say the word she wanted to.

"You're welcome," the boy replied. Taking her head softly between his hands, he bent his head and kissed her head. "Happy Christmas, Granger."

With a twirl of his robes, he was gone, leaving a stunned Hermione Granger staring after him.


	2. Bloody Hell

Spring had slowly crept into Hogwarts, bringing with it blue jays and robins twittering about, bringing songs of hope into the

Spring had slowly crept into Hogwarts, bringing with it blue jays and robins twittering about, placing songs of hope into the hearts of the remaining Hogwarts students. Trees opened up their leaves, embracing the heavens, and flowers of an array of colors had scattered the lawns. Students were seen more commonly outside, although certainly not too far away from the main entrance. The school's population had dwindled, of course, but most students had stayed, knowing that knowledge was the sharpest sword in battle.

Winter passed without any more interaction between Hermione and Draco. Hermione had hoped to talk to him more after their conversation, but it seemed as if Draco was avoiding her. He shot out of Ancient Runes each day seemingly quicker than if he was on his broomstick. He always sat facing away from Gryffindor table, and he never, ever walked down the corridors without someone walking with him, making it seemingly impossible for Hermione to communicate with him without drawing attention. However, Hermione still felt his presence. Sometimes, if she was walking down a corridor alone, she would sense that someone was watching her. Whenever she would whip around quickly to catch the person, no one would be there, but she knew it was Draco. It was as if Hermione had a new guardian angel, one that never showed its face.

One day in early March, Hermione strolled purposefully towards her haven, the library. Harry had sent her a letter requesting information on Banshees and how to avoid their deadly screams, and Hermione had dutifully grabbed her quill and rolls of parchment to begin her research. Harry had survived his December horcrux ambush, while managing to stun two Death Eaters in the process and throw them into Azkaban. He and Ron had wanted to know where Hermione had gotten her information on the attack, but she adamantly refused – no one in the Order trusted Draco Malfoy, and Hermione didn't want anyone turning down perfectly good information because of a supposedly 'rotten' source. Hermione was walking and pondering Draco Malfoy when a hulking shadow stepped in her way. Startled, Hermione stopped in her tracks. "Draco?" She tried to stop her mouth from twisting into a smile; speak of the devil.

"Hello, Hermione. First name basis still?" Draco Malfoy smiled slightly, obviously pleased Hermione hadn't reverted back to his surname. Grabbing her elbow slightly, he guided her into an empty classroom, setting her down gently into a chair. Locking the door with a series of spells, he too took a seat and looked at her silently.

Hermione felt a slight blush color her cheeks; she wasn't used to such scrutiny. Draco's gaze seemed much more piercing than anyone else's. Ron's always seemed like a puppy dog's, admiring her as if she was a dog bone with sprinkles on top. And Harry's gaze was always tinged with sadness, seemingly weighed down with the weight of the world. Draco's gaze, however, was as if her soul was being analyzed. Hermione felt naked.

Draco finally spoke.

"I have a new assignment."

Hermione looked up, startled. She knew Draco was a Death Eater, not as prominent as some, but certainly powerful. And if Draco had an assignment, it meant Voldemort was plotting again. Her ears strained to hear every word.

"Ever since Snape was found to be a traitor to the Dark Lord – "

Hermione winced. Anyone who referred to Voldemort as the Dark Lord was instinctively bad. And yet she knew Draco would not be telling her these things if he was. _He saved Harry_, she reminded herself for the bazillionth time.

" – The Dark Lord has been desperate for information on the Order's activities. We have nothing. We don't know where your headquarters are, we don't know how much you know, nothing. And seeing as most of our Death Eaters have been declared Enemies of the Ministry and they can't show their faces, let alone befriend the Order, new recruits are the only options as spies." Here he paused, apparently savoring the words. "Hermione Granger, meet the new Order of the Phoenix hopeful."

Jaw dropping, Hermione threw him an incredulous look. "You? Trying to be a member of the Order? Impossible. They'll never accept you! Most likely they'll try to kill you the moment one of them sees you! Or at least drown you in veritaserum and see what you come up with."

"That's where you come in, my dear. Seeing as I've already proven myself a follower of the light, whatever that rubbish phrasing implies, I don't think your morals will be too shaken trying to help me. Here is my plan as of yet. You will tell the Order that I've approached you, asking your help. You'll simply explain to the Order that the Dark Lord had tricked me. He threatened to kill my mum and dad if I didn't attempt to kill Dumbledore. Since then, I've been filled with grief at the error of my ways, and am willing to spy for the Order to redeem myself. And the brilliant part about the plan is that I really will be spying for the Order! It's You-Know-Who that will be tricked, thinking Im spying for him!"

_He's gone mad,_ Hermione realized. _All those bludgers to the head and he's actually gone mad_. But as she sat there, absorbing the details of his plan, she realized that it was a brilliant plan, really, and the Order was always desperate for more information on Voldemort's whereabouts. The only obstacle would be to convince everyone that Malfoy was truly good, and surely they would accept him if Hermione did.

"Okay, Malfoy. I'll see what I can do."

He shot her a dashing smile, bent down to kiss her hand, and swooped out of the classroom with the lithe grace that only he possessed.

--

"No. Bloody. Way!" Ron Weasley was pacing number twelve Grimmauld's place, his fiery hair matching his mood. "Malfoy's the prick who's been torturing us all these years! He's been born to follow You-Know-Who! That's his entire purpose of life, Hermione! Are you bloody insane?"

Hermione drew herself up, offended by Ron's crude phrasing. "No, I am not insane, Ronald. In fact, Im being perfectly logical, and you'd realize that if you'd simply put aside your bitter bias for one moment."

Ron's face burst into a lovely shade of magenta. Harry, on the other hand, had been staring into his butterbeer pensively, occasionally stirring his drink.

"Harry? What do you think of my plan?"

"Well…" here Harry looked remorsefully at Ron, as if apologizing, "I do remember Malfoy hesitating on the tower that night. I really don't think he would have killed Dumbledore if he had the chance. And we _are_ desperate for information." Here Harry looked at Ron as if to say, 'sorry mate'.

"But…. but Hermione, how do we know if he's trustworthy? Every good lie does have a thread of truth! He could just be feeding this to you!"

"True, Ron, but I know we can trust him. Do you remember the tip I gave you last December that your Horcrux mission was compromised? Well, Malfoy told me that." Here she bit her lip, hoping a complete outburst could be avoided. She sighed inwardly with relief that she hadn't said 'Draco'; she didn't think either boy could handle the first name transition with grace.

Two shocked faces stared at her. Awkward, heavy silence filled the room. Finally, Harry spoke slowly.

"Hermione. You could have gotten us killed then."

"But you weren't! That's the brilliant part; we've already gotten proof that he's on our side! He's already been initiated!"

Ron managed to shut his mouth. "Fine, Hermione. Even though I still think he's a nasty little ferret-" both boys snickered at the phrasing "-we'll take him. But one minor slip-up, one tiny indication he's still dark at heart, he's out of here. In pieces."

Hermione nodded. She would take the compromise; it was worth it in her opinion. At least the boys were threatening to kill Draco _after_ he messed up instead of before.

"Great. Ill tell him. You can tell the rest of the Order." Sitting up, she kissed both boys on the cheek (Ron turned an even brighter magenta), and taking a pinch of Floo powder, she shouted, "Hogwarts, Heads' common room!"

"Bloody hell."


	3. Phoenix Flames

Scotland summers always came late; spring was its favorite season. This year, however, it seemed as if the earth was punishing mankind of disrupting its peace. Scorching weather assailed London and Scotland alike, pushing all wizards and Muggles to eagerly congregate indoors, relieved at the cooler temperatures. Flowers wilted; birds spent their time swimming or laying in the shade. For Hermione, the weather was a welcome change. It meant that the Hogwarts school year was over.

Normally, Hermione felt remorse at another year past. Three months of not learning was quite a depressing thought to her. This year, however, she was eager to finish the term and the entire schooling process (for now, at least); the Order needed her, and she didn't need exams muddling her thoughts in these times of strategizing. Her future after graduation was something that could wait until Voldemort was defeated.

Draco's initiation into the Order had been set for the twenty-fourth of June. There was a bit of alarming irony to this date, as two years before, Voldemort had came to full power again. Hermione hoped that the coincidence wasn't a bad omen. After all, Draco needed as much luck as he could get, with half the Order thinking he was a spy for the Death Eaters. She and Harry had been trying to control the gossip and explain the logic of having Draco on their side. Most members scoffed and decided that Hermione was simply deceived by Draco's devastatingly handsome looks and that Harry really was addled in the mind, that the gossip was finally right.

The evening of June 24 dawned cool and ominous. Draco had just finished dressing in his 'frivolous, ridiculous- Granger, are you trying to make me look like a pansy?' initiation costume, a long white tunic that seemed to glitter from within with long, sweeping sleeves, along with very loose, fluid pants that grazed simple sandals which wrapped around Draco's ankles. The outfit could be considered frivolous, especially in times where material to making clothing was hard to come by, but it had important significance to the Order. Though those that wore it knew nothing about it, the cloth was woven with enchantments to protect the wearer from dangerous enchantments by turning into a thick armor in case of an unexpected raid and also hexes to poison the skin of enemies that touched the material. This made putting on the costume the first part of the initiation- those with a vendetta against the Order would suffer mild poisoning, although just enough to warn the Order and let them deal with the matter accordingly.

Draco was blindfolded that evening as soon as he finished putting on his robes. He was led blindly through the forests, tripping over roots and cursing with each tumble. After one particularly nasty spill, he spat out, "When are we bloody going to get there? I thought this would be quick!"

"We're here!" a deep voice suddenly announced. Harry, Draco realized. Slowly, Draco's blindfold was taken off and he took in his surroundings. He was at the edge of a large, expansive lake. Ten prominent members of the Order were in a circle around him, all wearing snow-white robes. Frowning, Draco realized they were all chanting something, moving their lips faster and faster until the sound turned into a slow buzz. Just as Draco was ready to run away screaming (although he wasn't scared, he simply needed to… use the loos, of course), a fantastic red phoenix came soaring out of the woods towards the clearing, singing along with the tune of the Order's chant. Draco stared at it, fascinated, when suddenly, the bird began flying rapidly in Draco's direction. Eyes widening, Draco ducked, but too late- the bird had flown right into him, bursting into flames. Too shocked at the dramatic death of the phoenix, Draco failed to realize that his robes had suddenly caught fire. Deep crimson, stormy black and fiery orange flames licked at his body, caressing him. Looking down, Draco's eyes grew wide, and everything grew dark.

"Wake up, Draco! Wake up!" An insistent arm pushed on Draco's arm, irritating him.

"Bloody hell! Ten more minutes!" He heard someone giggle. Prying open one eye slowly, he saw Granger sitting on the edge of his bed, looking amused.

"Blaise told me you were grumpy in the morning," she stated, suppressing a grin.

Draco threw off the covers and got up, outraged. "I am not!"

"Grumpy."

Rolling his eyes, Draco went to his wardrobe and began selecting his outfit for the day. Glancing at Hermione, who was still sitting on his bed, he smiled evilly, noticing her gaze. "Like what you see, Granger?" Although the two were still on first-name basis, he still liked to throw in her surname for good measure.

Hermione tried to suppress the blush creeping along her face. "No! I was just…" Her eyes looked around, searching for something else to look at. "I was simply looking at the elaborate woodwork on your armoire."

"Right, Hermione. The woodwork."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Enough. I came up here to tell you that you are now officially a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and with that privilege comes your first assignment."

Draco's eyes brightened. He had been wondering if he would ever be able to do something. He was sick of just sitting around headquarters all day- although he was fascinated with the apparent tradition of beheading house elves. Shaking his head, he thought of the questions he had been eager to be answered. "How the hell did I survive those flames? Were you trying to kill me?"

Hermione smiled, eager to discuss the initiation. "The fire was the initiation. Fawkes- that was Dumbledore's phoenix, although now Harry owns him- set you on fire in addition to himself. He was regenerating. And we weren't trying to kill you. Those flames, along with our chanting, tested out the possible outcomes of your loyalty to the Light. Black flames would have meant betrayal; yellow would have meant betrayal under pressure, while orange means intense loyalty, though confusion. Red flames of course mean an intense, unfailing loyalty. You passed."

Draco remembered his flames were red, and felt himself swell with pride. Then he realized the presence of the black flames, and felt his heart sink. But still, Hermione had said possible outcomes. It didn't mean the flames predicted the future. "What color flames did you have?"

Hermione hesitated. "Red and orange. But Draco, the color of your flames is knowledge only for you and people you entirely trust. We couldn't see what colors your flames were. We only saw Fawkes. Although," here she smiled, "if your flames had only been black or yellow, you would have been burned. But that's never happened before," Hermione added hastily, seeing Draco's look of horror.

Draco nodded, understanding. He decided to keep that fact that the flames burned black a secret. "So what was that you were telling me about having an assignment?"


End file.

Harry Potter, Drama, Romance